Book Review: Playground by Richard Powers

Blurred lines abound in Playground, where past overlaps with present, human detritus entwines with nature, and artificial intelligence tangles with its progenitor: the human mind. The experience is disorienting. I often flipped back and forth to remind myself of the time period. Certain characters disappear from the narrative for long stretches, forcing me to consult my notes. But perhaps disorientation is the intended effect. By jumping between time periods, characters, and settings, Powers invites us to question convention. The text’s structure puts us in a speculative mood – and makes us more receptive to unconventional ideas.

For example, Powers questions the rote dichotomy between humans and nature. As cohabitants of the same pale blue dot, there’s more that unites than divides us. As Evie, an oceanographer who has been subaquatic since her father chucked her into a pool to test an aqualung prototype, says, “No human being knew what life on Earth really looked like. How could they? They lived on the land, in the marginal kingdom of aberrant outliers.”

This comments on our limited knowledge (80 per cent of the ocean remains uncharted and unseen). But more so, it challenges the idea that humans and nature are separate. We are part of nature. So much so that we cannot see the metaphorical forest for the trees or, rather, the ocean for the puddle.

Powers uses evocative imagery to break down this barrier between the human and natural. Octopuses use glass jars to replace shells they’ve lost to evolution. Pygmy seahorses cling to plastic straws like host kelp. Ina, a sculptor on Makatea, collects plastic from the belly of a dead seabird for one of her creations.

This can be read as a comment on overconsumption and pollution, and in a sense, it is. But more so, it’s an assertion that humanity is not separate from nature. They are one and the same. We drink from the same cup, and humanity is poisoning the well.

Much in the same way, the novel questions the dichotomy between human and machine. AI evolves rapidly, making it hard to distinguish between genuine and artificial intelligence.

A generation before the novel, phosphate mining ravaged Makatea and its inhabitants. Now, they face a choice: welcome back outsiders wanting to use the island as a launch point for a techno-futuristic floating city, or cling to their traditional way of life.

Before voting, they consult an advanced AI named Profunda, shared by Todd Keane, the main narrator and initiator of the floating city project. It’s an evolution of the titular Reddit-esque social media site he created after stealing the idea from Rafi Young, his one-time friend and Go companion who now lives on Makatea.

Profunda can manipulate human emotions and actions. As the islanders interact with it, we must ponder whether it is an impartial intelligence or manipulating them for its creator.

We’ve poisoned the oceans. Who’s to say we haven’t poisoned AI? After all, it is trained on the Internet, a veritable ocean of humanity’s best and worst.

I won’t spoil the ending by revealing the islander’s decision, but I was pleasantly surprised. The disorienting experience of reading Playground left me unprepared for the resounding conclusion, where Powers weaves the disparate threads of this tale together with rare skill.

Playground (2024) by Richard Powers is published by Random House. Pages: 400. It was longlisted for the 2024 Booker Prize and shortlisted for the 2024 Kirkus Prize.

Chris Greer is the co-owner of Nottawa Cottage Bookstore. He grew up in Creemore and has a degree in English from the University of Toronto.